If there was one thing Amos Castillo prided himself in, it was the ability to find hidden gems in pawn shops. What he didn't know was that his latest find was about to change his life.

His pulse quickened as his ink-covered, sun-drenched hands stroked the worn leather of a vintage guitar case. After taking a deep breath, he exhaled, and pressed his thumbs on the lock release buttons, followed by the clack-clack of them snapping open.

“Whoa, she’s a beauty,” he gasped, grazing his callused fingers over the rosewood neck with abalone frets. “How much?”

“Nine-fifty,” the pawnshop owner replied.

“Nine—” Amos cut himself short, almost choking on his saliva. He was prepared to pay a thousand for a different guitar in the window display, but this one—this one, he would pay well over a thousand, considering rosewood on guitar necks was rare. He pointed to a tweed-faced amplifier in the corner. “Mind if I test it out before I commit?”

“Go ahead. Knock yourself out. Just don’t break the merchandise.”

When he crouched to plug in the cream-colored SG Gibson, his eyes caught sight of the price tag on the amplifier. Fifty dollars. He shook his head. It was vintage, and he could’ve sworn he saw an identical one on eBay for five hundred. It was evident the pawnshop owner didn’t know the value of his musical instruments. With a sigh, Amos plugged in the rare guitar and strummed a chord. As soon as the deep bluesy notes sang from the wood, he groaned a blissful sigh which reverberated up his chest and past his lips into a smile.

It sounded just as gorgeous as he imagined.

“Are you in a band?” Amos looked up and saw an older woman grinning down at him with skin like cracked clay.

“No, ma’am. I just love playing and collecting guitars.”

“Oh...” She pursed her mouth. “I thought you were someone famous because of the tattoos.”

“Not in this lifetime.” He winked.

The elderly woman frowned and walked away, allowing him to strum a few more riffs. As his tattooed fingers plucked the strings, he already knew there was no way he was leaving without buying both the guitar and amplifier. His brother Carlos was going to flip once he saw the latest score.

However, what Amos needed to be more concerned with, was how his girlfriend, Lorena, would feel about his latest splurge.

∆∆∆

Daylight spilled into the sunroom, casting an ivory glow over the rattan furniture where Amos sat with his brother, strumming their guitars. Music notes floated past the kitchen window where their mother washed dishes and matched each strum with her melodic voice.

“I can’t believe how amazing this sounds.” Amos shook his head, plucking a few more chords.

“You have all the luck with guitars, my dude. What’ll Lorena say, though?” Carlos asked.

“She’ll tell me I have to sell one of my other guitars.”

“Well, I mean, you have a ton.” Carlos shrugged. "But, I bet if you told her to do the same with her Christian Louboutin heels, she'd gouge your eyes out."

“Except, I wouldn't dare tell her that.”

"Because she has you whipped." Carlos chuckled.

"She does not."

“Man, you are so scared of her it’s not even funny! I’m surprised you had the balls to buy that guitar since Lorena carries them in her Louis Vuitton purse.”

“Shut up.” Amos rolled his eyes and strummed.

“It’s true.”

“It’s NOT true.”

“Eh, oh...” Carlos stood and went to the screened window. “She’s pulling into the driveway right now.”

“She is?” Amos shot to his feet.

“Hah! See? She scares you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh, but it is because Lorena IS home.”

“Shit.”

Scurrying into the house, Amos bolted down the hallway and slid into his music room to stow the new treasure. It was his sanctuary where countless guitars covered three of the navy blue walls, with track lights beaming across their glossy finishes. But, there wasn’t a spot for his new pawnshop gem, so he nestled it onto a stand in the corner.

“Hiding it in plain sight, huh?” Carlos chuckled, running a hand over his head of dark, chin-length waves.

“I’m not hiding it. I’m gonna tell her.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

The front door squeaked open, followed by hesitant heel clicks against the hardwood floor, causing both to turn towards the hallway, eyes wide.

“It was nice knowing you.” Carlos clapped Amos’s back.

“Oh, cut it out! You always think the worst of Lorena. She’ll be fine.”

“I wouldn’t think the worst of her if she wasn’t such a bitch.” Carlos flicked the dark curl that had come loose from Amos's short fauxhawk.

“Hey!” He smacked his hand away and smoothed the tendril back into place. “Don’t forget she’s my girlfriend or whose home you’re standing in. Be respectful.”

“I respect people who respect me.”

“Just...” Amos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Be nice.”

“Oh, I can be civil.”

The approaching click of high heels amplified, forcing the brothers to step out of the room and greet the woman in question. She flashed a tight smile, muttering a hello as she walked past, her long brunette locks bouncing on her shoulders. They spun and watched her retreat into the master bedroom.

“Amos, I need to talk to you,” she said over her shoulder, and Carlos raised his brows.

“Big bro, I feel for you.”

“Stop it.” Amos glared before heading for the bedroom.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Lorena whirled around, her hands tugging at the white blouse tucked into her ruby pencil skirt while kicking off nude-colored pumps. “Does your family have to be here twenty-four-seven?”

“It’s just my mom and brother.”

“Yeah, and they’re always here! But, for once, I’d like to come home from work and relax without having to see them taking up space in my house.”

“This is the first time they’ve been here this week, and my mom made us dinner.”

“I don’t care!” Lorena growled, shimmying out of the skirt, then kicking up the fabric to snatch it with her hand. “It’s like she thinks I can’t cook or something.”

“To be fair, I do most of the cooking around here. Besides, my mom is trying to help. You’ve been putting in a lot of overtime at work, so she’s just being nice.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you got a better paying job, I wouldn’t have to work overtime.”

“Wow. You’re really going there, huh?”

“Yeah, I am. This whole being a musician, a music teacher, and whatever other things you can think of isn’t cutting it! Get a real job.”

“What’s your problem?” He reeled back. “You've never taken issue with this before. Besides, we pay our bills and budget our money. We aren’t struggling.”

“I want you to grow up! Our friends own their homes, but not us. We rent, so we might as well be throwing our money away. Not to mention, I’d like a new car.”

“So then get a new car.” Amos shrugged. “I’m sure we can budget it as we do for your designer shoes.”

“That’s not the point.” Lorena placed her hands on her hips. “We’re supposed to be building a future together, and you’re complacent.”

“How?” Amos’s jaw dropped.

“I keep pushing for better.” Lorena pointed into her chest. “But you, you’re just happy being stagnant. You’re happy jamming out with your brother in the sunroom, just like you have been for the last five years. You teach people to play guitar but haven’t increased your prices in years. My dad offered you a job in his construction company, but you won’t take it even though you’d make more than you are now! You haven’t evolved in the five years we’ve been together. So when are you going to give up this music stuff?”

“Wow...” Amos scoffed. “If I’m such a miserable boyfriend, why are you still with me?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” Lorena snapped. “I just want you to be the best possible you. Is that so wrong?”

Huffing past him, she pulled open the dresser drawers and yanked out underwear as Amos stood by watching. Lately, it seemed they couldn’t get along. They always fought over small things. He loved Lorena. More than his previous girlfriends and wanted to marry her, but something was off.

Loving her didn’t use to feel so difficult.

“Tell your mom I have a headache!” she said and locked herself in the bathroom, followed by the squeak of the faucet as she turned on the shower.

It wasn’t until late in the evening, as Amos sat in the music room strumming the SG Gibson, that Lorena emerged. Led Zeppelin pulsed in his headphones as he slid his fingers along the guitar neck, playing D’yer Mak’er while plucking the strings absently. The house was quiet as his thoughts wandered between his fight with Lorena and how uncomfortable dinner had been after making excuses for her absence.

Upon exhaling a long breath, he flinched at the hands sliding down his chest. When he realized it was Lorena, he eased back into her, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, causing her soft waves to brush his neck and fill his senses with the sweet scent of her shampoo.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, baby.”

“Is that a new guitar?”

“It is.”

“It’s nice.”

Surprised by her calm reaction, he twisted at the waist to look her in the eyes. “Do you really like it?”

“Yeah." She trailed her finger down the abalone frets. “It’s pretty. I like the color of the neck.”

“It’s rosewood. You don’t see guitar necks made of rosewood anymore because the tree is endangered. So this is a rare find.”

“Expensive?”

“No. Got it for a steal.”

“I’m sorry for being so moody earlier.”

Setting the guitar aside, Amos curled his arm around her lower back and pulled her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed his forehead, and then pressed her face to his. They breathed together for a few beats, the silence between them filling with apologies neither of them was speaking. He traced her jawline with his finger and looked into her hazel eyes.

“You’re happy with me, right?”

She studied his face, smoothing back the rebellious curls dangling in front of his brown eyes. “Of course.”

“You sure? Because—”

Lorena pressed her hand over his mouth with a hush. “Baby, I love you. Work is just stressful. You know how moody I get when I’m tired.”

“Don’t I ever,” he chuckled, so she slapped his chest but then stood and took his hand.

“Let’s go to bed. Let me make it up to you.”

“Now you’re talking!” He got to his feet and took her face in his hands, planting a deep kiss on her. “Let me put this away, and I’ll meet you there.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.” She winked, and as she spun to leave, he spanked her bottom, causing her to yelp, but she glanced back at him. “Oh, yes, keep that up, Mr. Castillo. I’ve been naughty.”

Amos chuckled. Their argument was long forgotten as she left the room with the promise of lovemaking awaiting him. If there was one thing that always got their relationship back on track after a fight, it was sexual intimacy. Eager to start, he plucked the guitar from the floor and nestled it inside the hard leather case on the coffee table. Right as he was about to close it, he noticed the golden crushed-velvet lining coming loose at the edge, and something was wedged behind it.

“What do we have here...” he ran his finger inside the aperture, causing the lining to flop down and a worn, folded journal to tumble out. "Oops!"

Snatching it from the floor, he fanned through the pages, taking in the black ink scribbled across the lines on the paper.

“Hmm...” He scratched the stubble on his jawline and stopped fanning to read the first page—his mouth whispering the words.

Dear diary,

The first time I realized my marriage was going downhill was when I stood in the shower, touching myself and thinking of someone else. I know. It was wrong, but if you married Rodrigo, you would’ve done the same.

“Whoa.” Amos’s eyes widened. “What is this?”

Glancing across the hallway to the bedroom where Lorena was waiting, he squeezed the notebook in his palm, then glanced down at it. What was a few more minutes?

Easing back onto the couch, he continued reading, but he wasn't prepared for the whirlwind of words he was about to embark on.